


Perfect Fit

by Perryels



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Humor, M/M, Nosy Seniors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 02:29:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perryels/pseuds/Perryels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Midorima wears the wrong jersey to a practice match and the Shuutoku seniors come up with some 'interesting' speculations as to why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect Fit

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired the comments on this [this](http://www.zerochan.net/1378450) photo.  
> Lol. Please enjoy.

The members of Shuutoku (narrowing it down to the three seniors) had always known at the back of their minds that there was something much more than just friendship going on between Midorima and Takao.

_It was clear as day._

How Takao always seemed to have this unwavering tolerance for Midorima's every whim and fancy—which had been so profound that he'd go so far as to chauffeur the rickshaw the shooter liked to be taken around in. Or pose as the (and as bad as the three felt for putting it in such a way) lackey/servant who would be holding a pile of  _their_  textbooks while Midorima had nothing to carry but the satchel on his right hand, and his peculiar 'lucky item' of the day on his left.

And how Midorima was quite blatantly the opposite—the less expressive, sometimes (most of the time, as far as the three had seen) imposing, _tsundere_  Ootsubo, Kimura, and Miyaji had exactly no clue  _why_  Takao put up with. But there must have been something about him that made the latter want to stay by his side.

Sometimes when the two had been oblivious to their surroundings (or anyone else's presence, for that matter) as if they'd been the only people in the world, a sort of 'lovey-dovey' atmosphere would become thick around them, and subtle acts of romance would take place.

Keyword: 'oblivious'.

The sneaking of good luck kisses in an obscured area before each start of a game would easily be noticed by Ootsubo. In his defense, the first few times had been an accident—he unknowingly glanced, and then it happened. The next were times he wanted to be sure of himself. He glanced and waited, and then it happened. But the times after that, he actually wanted to see it happen, just because.

There would also be the exchange of sweet nothings and gentle caresses going on in the locker room. Said locker room was supposed to be devoid of any other members, but for some reason, Miyaji would always be there to witness  _everything._  And as he remained hidden in a corner, trying hard not to throw up from all the  _affection_  he was seeing, he would think of ways to exit the room without having to go through that awkward moment of walking-in on them, 'cause they just had to sit on the bench closest to the door.

And not to mention those stares Kimura would catch them giving each other on court—or out...or anywhere else. Oh god, _those stares_  that almost made him shudder how similar it was to watching a predator stalk its prey—so full of hunger and desire to utterly devour the other. Goosebumps right there.

Then there came an instance that  _really_  shoved it in their faces.

When Midorima had one day come into the waiting area during a practice match against Hakuryou High wearing a rather... _particular_  jersey, so boldly and out in the open, Miyaji almost choked on the chunk of pineapple he was eating while the other two had shit bricks.

The number of the Shuutoku jersey which was supposed to be a 6 was a... 10.

"Look!" Miyaji exclaimed, little bits of pineapple flying out of his mouth as he urgently nudged captain Ootsubo like it had been a life or death situation if he didn't look. Ootsubo turned to the direction he was sure Miyaji was referring to, and with an analytic stare, examined the oddity of the situation. Then he nudged Kimura.

Kimura grinned with a slight mischievous glint in his eyes. "I see what he did there..."

"Why do you think  _he_ has it?" Miyaji asked, intrigued like how half of the female population reacted to the latest gossip of Kenji-kun and Aya-chan getting suspended for being caught doing 'it' under the principal's desk (of all damn places) during lunch time— _those idiots_. "Are they, what? Official now? Was this their way of telling us? Is this some form of  _declaration?_ "

Captain Ootsubo could almost hear the stir of hysteria coming off from Miyaji's voice as he racked his brain for an answer. "Relax, Miyaji. He must've taken it by mistake somehow."

Miyaji turned to the captain. "And how do you suppose this 'somehow' happened?" Then there was this sudden change of atmosphere around him which had now seemed to be full of insinuation as he spoke to him in a low slur. " _Hmmmm_?"

Ootsubo raised an eyebrow. "What are you getting at?"

This was when Miyaji's creative imagination got into the works. "I think..."

Yesterday's practice had surprisingly been lenient. Nobody knew what coach Nakatani had eaten that afternoon, but they weren't complaining. His usual extension of thirty-minutes after the actual dismissal time was cut down to fifteen! The coach had seriously been generous, considering how they had a practice match the next day.

Now, with still enough energy to run fifty more laps around the court, who wouldn't be able to engage in 'extra activities'?

"...if you get what I'm trying to say."

Ootsubo didn't really. But nodded slowly anyway and encouraged Miyaji to continue.

So the usual routine of going home together... It somehow built some sort of  _tension_  between them. Looking at each other, sweat dripping, face flushed, hot bodies after practice was enough to set hormones surging.

"I mean, come on! They didn't even shower that night! And I think we all know why they didn't have to just yet."

They waited for their teammates to leave. Locker room. Magic happened. Then it was time to go home. Midorima, still being half dazed from the body-rocking, mind-blowing experience, grabbed the wrong shirt. Headed home without realizing. His mother must have washed it without knowing. Midorima brought it to school. Wore it to the match by accident.

"Do you understand?"

Ootsubo had only given Miyaji an astounded stare. After a few seconds of trying to process what he had just said, he smacked him in the head.

"Ow!"

"You watch too many anime to be able to come up with something as outrageous as that. I mean, I know there could be—"

"There  _is..._ " Miyaji cut off matter-of-factly.

"—something going on between them, but I believe that those two are pretty much tamed."

"You really think so?"

Ootsubo nodded in assurance. "Midorima for one always has a stick up his ass."

"Is that a pun?" Miyaji deadpanned.

"I'm saying he could be strict! Especially when it comes to things like that."

Miyaji sighed in exasperation. "Right. Which is why we've been seeing them getting it on every now and then."

"Maybe..." Kimura finally began. "It's something more like showing entitlement..." He stated, as if knowing the situation by heart. Then the two had shot him strange looks. "What? My sister has all these shojou manga lying around the house. It's pretty much hard to miss it when you're accidentally stepping on them in the hall."

"Okay, what's your conclusion?"

"Well, you know how some girls liked to wear their boyfriend's clothes? Maybe it's Midorima's way of claiming Takao, like 'bitch, you can't touch my man, he's mine so GTFO'."

There was a pregnant pause as Miyaji and Ootsubo contemplated.

"So, Midorima's like...the girl in the relationship?" Miyaji asked.

"I guess so? But I think Takao fits that role better," Kimura argued.

A nerve became prominent on the captain's temple, and he turned to the other two. "Why are we even talking about this?"

Miyaji was about to open his mouth when Ootsubo had hissed them to shut up. Midorima was approaching the seats where they had been sitting, and Ootsubo figured that this would be the perfect chance to settle their argument and finally get things straight. No pun intended.

"Oi, Midorima," Ootsubo called out when Midorima had settled. "Didn't know you decided to switch numbers," he said nonchalantly.

"Huh?"

Miyaji rolled his eyes. He couldn't quite believe that Midorima hadn't noticed at all.  _Were his eyes closed when he was changing?_  "You're wearing number ten," he said flatly. When Midorima replied with a clueless expression, Miyaji had twirled his index in the air, indicating the back.

Midorima had promptly looked over his shoulder and started pulling on the cloth, catching a glimpse of that One and Zero.  _Shit._ And oh, how priceless Midorima's face was when he quickly let go, eyes wide with horror.

"Mind telling us how exactly you ended up wearing Takao's jersey?" Kimura cooed. And the three of them swore Midorima had gone fifty shades of red—from the neck to the ears. Miyaji found this entertaining in the highest degree. That's to show that he  _was_  right. And also because he found this moment to be relishing since he happened to be the most sadistic out of all of them.

Midorima was stuttering his failure attempts of an explanation when, as if on cue, Takao had walked in to save him from further embarrassment. He was in a plain blue shirt and Shuutoku's usual shorts.

Ootsubo immediately turned to him. "Takao, why is Midorima wearing your jersey? You should've been dressed up by now!"

"Ah! Well, we were changing in the locker rooms, and it seems that Shin-chan took mine by mistake," Takao explained, chuckling. "I was just about to take it back."

Midorima pushed his glasses up. "I apologize. I did not notice."

"Silly Shin-chan. Well, I'm going to get changed now. Game starts in fifteen, right?" Takao took their silence as a yes, before heading out, Midorima following behind him.

When the two had completely gone, Ootsubo stared at Kimura and Miyaji in disbelief. "Magic happening? Entitlement? Pft. You guys are nuts." He stood up. "I'm going to do some stretches," then left.

"You know," Kimura brought sometime later. "We should really just keep out of their private lives from now on." He stood up as well and followed Ootsubo.

Miyaji sighed. Stretching was a good idea.

_Meanwhile in the locker room..._

Midorima had just slipped out of Takao's jersey and handed it over to him. "Here."

"Did you bring a spare?"

"I did. I always do."

Takao then got his head through the collar and wore the shirt snuggly, sniffing it a little. "Smells like you, Shin-chan," He grinned. "By the way, the one you used yesterday is in the wash. It's still full of our scent from last night, so..."

"Shut up, Takao!"

"What?  _You_  took the wrong jersey with you!" Takao scooted next to Midorima, saying lowly, "Oh, and it its you perfectly, too."


End file.
